


soft

by luvbot



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nothing explicit is mentioned but there's a suggestion, Panic Attacks, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, he's really trying his best, irl mikado is cool actually we stan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvbot/pseuds/luvbot
Summary: nikei has a bad night.
Relationships: Sannoji Mikado/Yomiuri Nikei
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	soft

**Author's Note:**

> tw for suggested csa! yeah. shit hurted 💔  
> this was. hastily written and mostly a way to get my own feels out during a trauma moment, so im sorry for any typos! my stuff isn't normally massively proofread anyways, but this one has a higher chance of typos lol
> 
> anyways hello sanniuri nation

curled up in his little apartment bed, nikei's chest is heaving, every breath coming to him like it's his last.

he can't take this. he  _ can't _ . he's supposed to be lucky, and yet his past keeps coming back to haunt him in the midst of the night, clawing away at the back of his mind until he can feel it scraping at his  _ skull _ .

~~ (and... he can feel  _ hands _ on him - not truly there, and yet they feel just as real. it makes his skin crawl and his stomach turn and his throat close up in  _ fear.) _ ~~

he takes another shuddering breath. then another.

he has to stay quiet. he  _ needs _ to. their shoddy apartment walls are thin as card, and he can't have any of the other voids hearing him at his worst when he's supposed to be  _ leading _ them. he can't let them think he's weak, that he's-  _ human. _

his breath hitches as he tries to slow it, growing faint and dizzy as he shortens his intake in a brazen attempt to silence himself. his arms, wrapped tight around his little body, sting from his own nails digging into them and near drawing blood.

the pain feels far away. not quite held in place.

he.

can't do this.

he can't do this. he can't do this!

he can't, he can't, he can't he can't he-

"nikei?"

...it's. mikado.

mikado's in the room with him. mikado's… here.

nikei tries to speak. it comes out as more of a sad little whimper, and mikado hums a response.

nikei… didn't even hear the door open - which is a wonder in of itself, considering void's crappy apartment has a  _ myriad _ of squeaky frames and creaky floorboards.

that just… proves how  _ out-of-it _ he's found himself.

mikado's appearance startled him out of his downward spiral, but his chest is still tight with fear and adrenaline, and he curls up tighter when he registers mikado stepping closer to his bed.

a shuffle, and all of a sudden nikei's pulled upright and pressed against mikado's chest, the latter of which having sat down on the raggedy covers.

"breathe with me, okay?" he sounds tired. nikei nods in response. "alright."

so he breathes. slowly, air catching in his throat time after time, face wet with tears that are gradually soaking into mikado's shirt, and shaky hands clawing at his own. his ear is up against the other man's chest, carefully matching his breathing to mikado's own.

the tears won't stop flowing, now. he feels tiny and weak and  _ pathetic _ as his fingers shift and dig harshly into the other man's dress shirt.

he's more lucid than where he began, but that just leads way to another downward spiral.

why is  _ mikado _ doing this? he's going to use it for blackmail later, surely.

or he's going to lead nikei on, only to kick him back to square one. leave him as some crumpled heap on a shitty bed and tell the rest of void how much of a sad, disgraceful little man he is. how he should never have been leader in the first place, and how he's just  _ hysterical _ and  _ unstable _ and  _ unfit for their cause. _ how they should just drop him and run already, how they'll surely find  **him** faster without nikei dragging them down.

he spares- no, rather,  _ dares _ a glance upwards at mikado, who-

isn't looking at him with disgust, nor contempt.

mikado, who... isn't pushing him away.

mikado, whose eyes are shining with empathy, and whose gentle, albeit hesitant smile eases all of nikei's anxieties in an instant.

the journalist sniffles. "huh?"

"it's okay. you're doing great."

he… really isn't.

the praise does something to his heart, though, and his face softens a smidge.

as does his iron grip on mikado's shirt.

(he hears the other man release a relieved sort of sigh, and manages a chuckle under his breath.)

mikado shifts somewhat, positioning the two of them lower down onto the bed and throwing over the covers.

"is this okay?"

it's…

warm.

for the first in a long while, even in the conditions the voids have found themselves in, nikei feels  _ warm _ .

he nods.

he still doesn't necessarily  _ trust _ mikado, but…

feeling the man lazily draw circles into his back with a tired hand, nikei allows his eyes to drift shut.

"...thanks."

"anytime. now get some rest."

* * *

hajime pops his head into the bedroom a short while later, having woken up to hushed murmurs and the soft illumination of nikei's table lamp.

and upon laying eyes on the two men, snuggled up and smiling in a bed not quite large enough to house the both of them, the boxer finds on his face a teeny smile of his own.


End file.
